


Her Kind

by brocanteur



Series: To Bedlam and Part Way Back [1]
Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Drug Use, F/F, Hate Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/pseuds/brocanteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before series 4, this is an AU series that significantly changes what could have happened between Katie and Effy after Gobbler's End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Titles and opening quotes stolen from Anne Sexton.

_"A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind."_

\--

It's hardly an auspicious beginning.

 

 

It's fucking boring, this club, this music. She doesn't even feel like dancing, and she  didn't feel like coming along at all, but Emily all but dragged her out, smiling and being _nice_ and saying, "It'll be fun, you'll see" like she was doing Katie some sort of favour by  bringing her along. Katie's sure she doesn't need any favours, least of all from her sister and her sister's ridiculous girlfriend.

  
Christ.  
  
Just catching a glimpse of them dancing--well, it's absolutely filthy, is what it is, because they're both off their faces and it's like the time Katie had to drag Emily away from Cook, except this time it's no boy grinding up against her sister. It's no boy whose hands are wandering up and down Emily's sides, up around to her ribcage. And thank God for a little decorum, because at least Naomi's not drunk enough to--  
  
Hands on tits-- _hands on tits_ \--just fucking _fantastic_. Emily and Naomi slutting it up on the dance floor for all to see. And it's not like Katie can get between them and drag Emily away, because Naomi's _not_ Cook. Naomi and Emily are _in love_.  
  
Katie rolls her eyes and takes a swig from the bottle she's been nursing most of the night, feels the liquid burn down her throat. She likes that feeling, likes how it makes her feel afterward, nice and warm and a little light-headed--a feeling she needs more than ever now, so she takes another drink and another until the bottle's nearly empty and she's left with nothing. Nothing but a blur of lights before her eyes and a heat settling in her stomach.  
  
She starts to look around the club--she'll either find someone or _go_ , because she's not the sort to wait around.  
  
That's when she spots her. Effy. _Effy Stonem_. Except it's not the Effy Stonem Katie would've expected, because that Effy Stonem would be just as drunk or high as Emily and Naomi are, and she'd be in the middle of the action. This Effy is not, and she looks so pathetic, so sad holding her drink, away from the crowd, in a dark, lonely corner, that Katie wants to laugh in her miserable, slut face.  
   
She doesn’t. She watches and waits, letting alcohol and anger (and fear) mix a dangerous brew. The last of the vodka is gone when Katie pushes away from her own dark corner, and sinks into the crowd.  
  
Because Katie's drunk, because she was hit with a rock and left to die, because she's afraid that the humiliation nestled in her chest won't ever go away if she doesn't do _something,_ she walks up behind Effy--who might not be slutting it up but who is nonetheless wearing her usual tramp fashion, a nothing slip of a dress that barely covers her arse, ripped up stockings, and too much dark eye shadow and mascara, carelessly applied, like she can't be bothered anymore--and murmurs unsteadily in her ear. "Thought you'd never fucking show yourself again."  
  
Effy tilts her head back, surprise registering for only a moment before it slips and vanishes and all that's left is the shell of Effy Stonem--cool, detached. Bitch. All she says is "Katie," in that slow, laconic way of hers that sets Katie's blood boiling.  
  
"Where are your fucking admirers, then?" she asks, pushing herself right into Effy's space. Effy's taller, but she's rail thin now, like she's had the longest weeks of her life and barely survived them. Good, that makes two of them. "Give them the night off, did you?"  
  
Effy nods, takes a sip of her drink and replies, infuriatingly, "Yeah. Sure." Then she shifts and turns so she's facing Katie, looks her up and down in a way that makes Katie want to slap her, and lazily adds, "You've healed."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
Effy is silent, but her smile, when it materialises, is vicious.  
  
This spurs Katie on. "You should've stayed gone, you ridiculous whore. You and your sad twat boyfriends. What'd you think you'd find here when you came back?" Katie isn't even trying to contain her anger; she knows it shows plainly enough, and what fuels it more than anything is the impassive way in which Effy reacts to it.  
  
"It's been nice chatting," Effy replies, before turning away. She's heading for the door, and Katie can't help herself; she follows. If there's one thing she's not willing to put up with is someone walking away from her, not anymore.  
  
It's nearly as balmy outside the club as it is inside, though Katie isn't sure if that's because of the weather or the alcohol she drank or the rage that's pumping through her body. As she steps into the darkened alleyway outside the back exit, Katie can't help but wonder, in her drunken stupor, what she's expecting to get out of this, out of confronting Effy. Not Freddie back--Jesus, she wouldn't take him back even if he begged because she's got _some_ pride left after all; not to fuck Effy up, much as she deserves it, because Katie's been in one too many fights lately and managed to lose them all. So then, what? It's what she asks herself a second or two _after_ grabbing Effy's wrist and yanking, because vodka is _bad for you_ , and her brain's on a lag.  
  
"What the fuck?" Effy asks, trying to pull her arm back, but Katie's got a good hold of it. A reaction, at least--bewilderment mixed with annoyance; it's a start. "You want to hit me, Katie? Go on." Katie doesn't reply, just stares back angrily, her fingers tight around Effy's wrist. She squeezes, just for fun, just because she can. Effy's nostrils flare, but she doesn't look scared, she doesn't look intimidated. It looks to Katie like this is exactly what Effy's wanted. "Do it, then."  
  
"You are fucking mental," Katie answers, her lip curling. She digs her nails into Effy's skin, pleasantly surprised when Effy's eyes widen a bit.  
  
However, almost instantly, the element of surprise evaporates. Effy's reply seems practised, calculated, as if people have called her mental so many times she knows exactly how to respond. "Yeah, but aren't we all?"  
  
" _Whatever_. Fucking take a look in a mirror, babe. You're a basket case, and you know it."  
  
When Effy smiles again it's slow in coming, but as she bares teeth, Katie's stomach twists. She's so, so wasted.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"What _about_ me?"  
  
It's impossible--when Effy does a turn-around and grips Katie's elbow, pushing her toward the nearest wall--for Katie to keep from gasping. Effy's _laughing_ at her. She's laughing her face off even though Katie's pretty sure she's dug her nails so deep into Effy's arm there will be blood soon. "I was going to ask whether you've looked in a mirror lately, but I'm fairly sure you've never crossed a mirror you didn't like. You're _well lush_ , aren't you, Katie? You and your pushed up tits and your--" She starts to laugh again, Effy, a bit hysterically and it makes Katie let go, retreat. Soon she's flush against the wall, but Effy's still there, still crowding her. Then Effy glances at her wrist--where Katie left deep welts and drops of blood are welling up--and brings it to her mouth, sucks on it, her penetrating gaze set on Katie.  
  
"Not nearly enough," Effy murmurs. "Nine stitches doesn't quite compare..."  
  
"Shut up," Katie says. "Just... shut up." She hates how meek she sounds now, like the fight's gone out of her entirely. She doesn't want to fight, because she's sure it's the one thing Effy _does_ want. (And because Katie's fairly certain she'll lose. She doesn't want to lose again.)  
  
"Are you drunk?" Effy continues, putting her palms on the wall, on either side of Katie's shoulders. "Because I am. Took some pills, too." She smiles sharply and leans closer, her breath stinking of alcohol and cigarettes and something vaguely sweet. Gum, maybe.  
  
Katie takes a deep, unsteady breath before crossing her arms, putting at least that much distance between herself and Effy, even though she could probably push her way out. She doesn't know why she hasn't. "Fuck off, you cow. You're _pathetic_."  
  
"Only as pathetic as you are, Katie. Let's be pathetic together, yeah?" That's when she takes each of Katie's hands and pries them away from her body, pins them to the wall in a hold that barely is one. Katie could slip out of it easily, so easily. But she doesn't. She waits. Feels the grain of the brick against her elbows and waits. There's got to be something at the other end of this and she won't give Effy the pleasure of seeing her unsettled. "Now then, are you anything like your sister?"  
  
"Like my--?" Katie releases a sharp bark of laughter, because _really_.  "Oh, please. You're such a--"  
  
Immediately, she wishes she hadn't had all that vodka, because Effy's kiss is languid, surprisingly nice, and Katie knows to blame that wayward thought on the alcohol. Still, she rides it out for a few moments, waits until Effy's tongue sweeps into her mouth before pushing against Effy's waist until she's stumbling backward, laughing.  
  
It's only because she wants to wipe that stupid smile away, only because she won't be laughed at anymore, not by Effy, not by anybody, that Katie grabs the thin fabric that holds the front of Effy's dress together, tugs so hard she's surprised it doesn't come apart in her hands. When she sees the shock on Effy's face as their bodies slam together, Katie feels a deep satisfaction.  
  
"You fucking cunt," she snarls, one moment before slanting her mouth over Effy's, kissing her hard. It really shouldn't feel this good, or good at all, but it's _so fucking good_ , getting one up on Effy Stonem.  
  
Effy's stunned into inaction for five seconds; Katie counts them off in her head, each a badly measured beat because she's already drunk and being snogged by Effy is just about the final nail in the coffin of her tenuous grasp on the here-and-now. It takes however long that is for Effy to shove Katie again, for Katie's back to find the wall in a rush--she's knocked into it so fast she's momentarily breathless. It doesn't help that Effy kisses like she means it, that their kisses stop being exclusively about punishment just around the time Effy wraps her arms around Katie's waist and swipes her tongue against Katie's mouth, making her tremble.  
  
"What do they all see in you?" she hisses, the moment she's able to tear herself away. Even as she speaks, she's curling her fingers around Effy's nape, keeping her close. "Up herself cunt, can't even kiss properly."  
  
Effy doesn't laugh this time, but that smile of hers has grown to be a thorn in Katie's side. She brings her hand up and rubs her thumb vigorously against Effy's mouth, trying in vain to make it disappear. "You're such a little idiot," she says. "You think just because you go around, like, being fucking _mysterious_ or whatever--"  
  
Effy rolls her eyes and catches Katie's thumb between her teeth, sucks it into her mouth. It's weird, but not just that. The way Effy's staring at Katie as she slowly licks makes Katie's breath catches in her throat. And Effy sees it. Effy, Katie thinks bitterly, misses nothing.  
  
That's when Effy releases Katie's thumb with a soft _pop_. She sighs inadvertently, and the moment she does Effy takes her hand and kisses her palm, so lewdly that Katie's mouth drops open and she produces a strangled whimper. She deserves to be laughed at for that--for being such a fucking drunken _idiot_ that having her hand kissed is enough to dampen her knickers--but Effy doesn't laugh. She doesn't even smile anymore, just presses into Katie again and kisses her--slowly, deeply, giving Katie every opportunity to escape.  
  
But this isn't _love making_ , is it? Katie recoils at the thought, tangling her fingers in Effy's hair, nipping angrily at her mouth--because if they're going to do this then they might as well do it right. "Fucking tease," she mutters, for once glad when Effy laughs into her mouth, and the kiss takes a turn for the depraved. Groaning, Katie sucks on Effy's tongue, hands now seeking purchase on her hips. She digs her nails through the fabric of Effy's dress, pleased when she gasps and slides her own hands under Katie's top, scratching more often than caressing.  
  
When Katie accidentally runs her hand over Effy's tit, Effy makes a sound of pleasure that sounds so genuine, Katie can't stand it, can't stand the way it reverberates in her ears. "Fuck," she exhales. " _Fuck_."  
  
Effy whispers something that sounds like _yes_ , and she's got both her hands on Katie's tits, rubbing and squeezing until Katie grows impatient. Just as she's about to protest, Effy lifts Katie's top and ducks her head, runs the flat of her tongue over Katie's hardening nipple. Katie's legs nearly buckle.  
  
As soon as Effy's hand moves beneath her skirt, though, Katie jerks at the contact. "Don't worry, Katie," Effy murmurs, lips now on Katie's throat, fingers high up between her thighs, "I owe you, yeah?"  
  
"Just fucking shut up and do it already," Katie says, choking on her words when Effy pulls aside the elastic on her knickers and deftly skates a finger along her cunt. Effy makes this self-satisfied hum that makes Katie want to call the whole thing off, except it's too late for that, and Effy's fingers are sliding and pressing, and the world just became the size and shape and texture of Effy's hand. Katie can barely register anything else, can barely pay attention to whatever Effy's whispering into her ear, but she _can_ feel her hot breath and her lips, so close to Katie's earlobe it takes no effort at all for Effy to suck it into her mouth.  
  
God, she needs this to be over with. (And she wants it to last forever; she can't think about it because everything's blurred around the edges and she _can't think_ , and even if she could she isn't sure she'd want to.) Wrapping her fingers around Effy's wrist--and there she can still feel the marks she left, can trace the indentations, probably could fit her nails back over them and _press down_ and make Effy bleed all over again--she urges Effy for more. "Fuck, can't you do anything right?" Katie asks, and even though she's closed her eyes now--she can't bear to look--she swears she can feel Effy's stare, and the irritating smirk she must have on her face. "Fuck me harder, will you?" And, shit, _shit_ , she could've done without her voice breaking like that.  
  
It doesn't matter, though, because Effy's complying, two fingers inside Katie's cunt now, fucking her, angling until Katie can't breathe and every muscle in her body is tightening--  
  
Her orgasm is so strong, she falls back against the wall, her hands clutching Effy's waist as she waits for it to subside. She twitches and gasps when Effy removes her fingers, watching curiously as she brings them to her mouth and licks them clean. It shouldn't be hot, but Katie can't help but watch. Still, when Effy smiles, her middle finger sliding suggestively from between her lips, Katie makes a sound of disgust.  
  
"Even, then?" Effy asks. Her voice is rough.  
  
Katie shrugs, awkwardly readjusting her skirt. "Whatever. Just don't fucking tell anyone."  
  
"Right. Well," Effy smiles, "who would I tell?" Then she leans in and kisses Katie again, a soft, chaste kiss that ends with a sharp bite.  
  
"Go fuck yourself," Katie says, still trying to catch her breath.  
  
Already walking away, Effy calls back, "I fully intend to."  
   
She doesn't look back.  
   
Katie closes her eyes and waits for the world to stop spinning quite so madly. She's very drunk. Come morning, she hopes she won't remember any of this. It will all be a blur.

 

Like that night in the woods, at Gobbler's End.

  
  



End file.
